This is Anja (pronounced anya),
the daughter of my officemate.

Her favorite colors are pink and yellow.
She knows all the words to High School Musical songs.
She utters the sentence "You're so dedicated"
even though she doesnt know what dedicated means.
She asked her mom if she could not be my boss for one day
so she could play with me.
She think I'm actually funny.
She's adorably smart and witty for her age.
She rolls her eyes at boys that she doesn't like.
She loves Sam Milby and she and her mom scream everytime they see him on Tv.
She makes greeting cards for all the people in the office.
She calls her mom everyday just to tell her about her day and to hear stories.
She tells me I'm her favorite officemate.
I call her onion.
She calls me eggplant.
We call her Mom tomato.
I love talking to her because things are uncomplicated and fun.
Someday I'm going to teach her to read Margaret Atwood, Neil Gaiman and Banana Yamamoto
I'm gonna make her listen to Up Dharma Down and U2
I'm gonna bring her to the National Museum and to the Planetarium
I'm gonna warn her about boys and their dishonorable intentions
Then I'm gonna tell her that they're not all that bad
I'm gonna tell her about God's grace and how it saved me from the darkest pits of despair
I look forward to sharing tears, laughter and stories with her in the future
And hopefully by that time, she would still think I'm actually funny  

im only starting to get back on my feet myself, so i dont know if these musings will make any sense. and im too shy to tell them to you directly so here's hoping you'll read this and may help you in this path you're on right now. and whether you should get off this path or not

and forgive me if my thoughts arent organized...i think it's better for me to write unrehearsed and unplanned

i dont think anyone ends up being where they're really "supposed to be". i know we made grandiose plans of conquering our respective fields by the time we're 25. or having a decent husband and cute adorable children by the time we're 28.

okay, we're turning 28 next year and i dont think we're anywhere near those goals. does this mean we're failures? that we should knock our heads on the nearest wall for failing "the plan"? far from it, i think

the last three years were a sort of zombie state for me, where i didnt really know what i wanted to be, or i thought i wanted to be this but it turns out it's not mine to begin with. and then when i lost whatever it is that i thought i wanted, i spent the next few months moping and wondering why my life wasnt turning out the way i was expecting it to

so i could say ive been down your path, in a much different way, but still the same path

and this is what i've learned. dont expect things to turn out according to plan. it's not a saddening thought. i've learned to be flexible, to adjust to the myriad turns that life has been giving me. and to not push and push for something that doesnt want to give.

they say persistence pays off. i say, uhm, not always. if it's not working no matter how hard you try, then maybe it's time to try something else? yeah, there's an issue of commitment there (which at this point in my life im still having trouble really understanding) and i know that things are sometimes meant to be hard, but it shouldnt be that hard right?

and another thing i've learned here is that sometimes, you have to take some time off from doing something that you used to love but now is getting to be such a heavy burden. somwhere along the way, after you've stepped back, you'll find yourself going back to it and loving it once again. and if not, then move on

all of these ideas are not theoretical and hypothetical. cliche as it may sound, im speaking from something ive painfully and fully experienced. and im just getting out of this place, truth be told.

i never expected to be here at this point in my life. but somehow, i think this is much better. because it is a life that is not borne out of childish dreams and fantasies. but a life that has been through disappointments, aches and groans that were often left unsaid. and this is a life that is going to get through more of the same, but hopefully with a little more wisdom and happiness and love.

here's to more of the real life

I’ve been aware for some time now that I’m not that “young” anymore, well, relatively speaking that is. And people around me have no problem reminding me of that fact every once in a while, especially when I start saying, “Do you remember this show/song?” and then they look at me with that incredulous look in their eyes and say, “Ahem, that was way before our time.”

I don’t really mind it so much, because I know and have accepted that one of the basic facts of this world is that you will always and always be older than somebody, just as someone will always be older than you. 

But this weekend, I began to realize some things that I knew that I know but I’ve never really taken a long, hard look at. Okay, I admit, it was brought about by going out with 3 young colleagues the other night and feeling so alienated by all the party music and people around me. And even though I had a sorta kinda good time, all I wanted was to curl up in a chair somewhere and read Kafka on the Shore. And when I told the guys that maybe we should go home at around 1AM, they laughed and said that the night was actually just beginning for them. I truly felt like the older sister chaperoning her younger siblings somewhere.

So it got me thinking about all the things I’m too old to enjoy/believe in. Some are sad realizations, some are just plain realistic.

I’m past the age of idealism. While I’m not yet totally cynical, I find the idealism of some of the people around me too stifling. I literally feel a hand clutching my neck when they insist that things SHOULD be like this, that people SHOULD act like this. My dears, wait till you graduate from college and work in the real world, and then tell me with a straight face that it is actually so easy to be what you think you should be. If you can still believe that after five years, then good for you. But if you can’t, welcome to the real world dude.

I’m past the age when I could dress like up like an 18 year old everyday. I used to think I could get away with it because of a certain lack of height that makes me look younger than I really am. Every once in a while, I still could, just for the heck of it. But I wouldn’t want to be one of those people who are laughed at because they’re apparently trying to recapture their youth by dressing up like they’re still teenagers. And in my line of work, if I want to be taken seriously, I cannot wear jeans and a mickey mouse t-shirt.

I’m past the age when I want to go out and party and meet people in bars. Okay, I have to admit, I was never this person. The idea is totally abhorrent to me (no offense to those who do this, it’s just not for me). More and more I want to just sit somewhere and read or talk and drink rather than drink the night away while techno music is pounding away on the speakers.

I’m past the age when I believe that people could start doing or stop doing something if they really wanted to, at the drop of a hat. I used to really believe that if my Mom loved us enough, she would stop smoking. Or if my friend really wanted to, he could start being considerate of other people’s feelings. But I’ve seen people who really and sincerely want to change, but they still deal with the same struggles for years. And they are not lesser people in my eyes. I may not totally understand what they’re dealing with, but I have a sense of what struggle is, because I deal with it too, albeit on a different level. What I hate are people who are less gracious to people who they see are failing miserably in their struggles. But then I think that in their own way, they are also struggling for dear life and are drowning because of their judgmental and ungracious attitude. So, I should cut them a little slack too.

I’m past the age of flings. Okay, I’ve never really had a fling. Technically. But the idea of going into something just for the fun of it, or just because someone’s there and available and interested, is so distasteful. I’ve had little and enormous heartbreaks already, why would I want to continue on adding to that? I cannot say that I am still hopeful that the love of my life will come along and sweep me off my feet. But I still wouldn’t exchange the possibility of that for the pleasure of now. Okay, so in this respect, I still have a little idealism after all.

But even with these realizations, I know at the end of the day, when I go to home to Laguna, when my Lola hugs me with her frail body, when I snuggle beside my Mom in her bed, when my brother and I playfully baby talk to each other, there I will always and forever be a little girl.

   you shall above all things be glad and young
   For if you're young,whatever life you wear


   it will become you;and if you are glad
   whatever's living will yourself become.
   Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
   i can entirely her only love


   whose any mystery makes every man's
   flesh put space on;and his mind take off time


   that you should ever think,may god forbid
   and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:
   for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave
   called progress,and negation's dead undoom.


   I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
   than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance

- e.e cummings

sometimes i wish i didnt wear my heart on my sleeve
even to the most unobservant person, it's easy to see what i truly feel
and it's sometimes a big inconvenience to be so transparent when you're trying to hide feelings and emotions that should not be spoken of yet

but then i cant imagine repressing them
i feel an almost physical ache in my chest whenever i do so
so i show giddiness when im in that early stage of infatuation
i raise my eyebrows when im thinking "what the heck is he/she doing or saying?"
i scream when im frustrated or in the throes of pain
i tilt my head to the side and use my gentlest voice when im feeling malambing
i hug people when i miss them even though i saw them just a week ago
i pinch people when im in the gigil mode (whether good or bad gigil, that is the question)
i cry even at the slightest emotional tug to my heart
i sing my heart out when i want to, regardless of who's listening (or not listening)

but there are still some things that i have to keep in
for my own sake (and for others as well)

Stef, if your bag is a black hole, then mine is the mother of all black holes

I used to be able to carry these dainty little bags that can fit a coin purse, a small cellphone, a small pack of tissues, a comb and nothing else

Now i have 5 of those kinds of bags inside my real bag

My friends joke that I carry a refrigerator inside my humongous bags. Well, they may be almost right. Let's see what you can find inside my bag everyday:

 -         my violet diary (you never know when a brilliant thought might hit you)

 -         my Starbucks planner (which I almost never use but still feel the urge to put in my bag)

 -         my work notebook (which is 3 inches thick

 -         my kikay pouch bag (which has 3 little pouches inside to sub-divide all my stuff, namely, beauty products, medicinal products and sanitary/hygienic products)

 -         my “National Bookstore” pouch bag (which has a gazillion pens, markers, highlighters, post-its, a sharpener, an eraser and a pair of scissors)

 -         my “mommy” wallet

 -         my techie pouch bag (which has my Jurassic PDA aka ebook reader, chargers, USB cables and blank CDs)

 -         my token book/books (currently, Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go and Alex Garland’s Tesseract)

 -         my Starbucks commuter mug (even if I seldom go to Starbucks)

 -         my jacket (you never know when it’s gonna get chilly)

 -         my snacks pouch bag

 -         my sunglasses, reading glasses, keys, and fan

 -         oh, and occasionally, an umbrella

 
Okay, I admit I am a woman obsessed. I’m obsessed with ball pens, post-its, drawstring pouches, gadgets, coffee and I carry these little obsessions wherever I go. I keep promising myself that I will downsize, but I cant bring myself to. What if someone suddenly needs to charge their phone? Or I get stuck somewhere without a book, pen or paper? And if I suddenly have to overnight somewhere, what would I do without my kikay pouch?

So I guess I will still choose a huge bag over cute little girlie bags, even though I sometimes look ridiculous lugging around a backpack when I’m wearing a skirt, trudging along that enormous money-eater called SM Mall of Asia

A friend joked that this is a reflection of all the emotional baggage I still carry around. Riiiiiiight. Hah. But that’s a whole other post altogether.

So if one day you might need a USB cable to plug in your mp3 player, or a post-it to write a note to someone, or mouthwash to freshen your breath, just look for the small girl with a literal burden on her shoulders. I am not selfish with all that stuff I carry around. Okay, maybe with my toothbrush.

1. Grab the nearest book
2. Open book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post text of sentence on your blog. Please include book and author along with these instructions.
5. No digging about for the "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! (I know you were thinking about it!) Just pick up whatever is closest.

My book is "The Coma" by Alex Garland (author of The Beach and screenwriter of 28 Days Later)

page 123, 5th sentence

" So I climbed the stairs and forced myself to be unhurried, and as i climbed i noticed that the lightness and the sense of translucence remained."

This book is a really good buy, just like The Beach (if you didnt like the movie, just read the book). His words are simple and direct but evokesvivid imagery, as if you were looking at a stark but beautiful snapshoot from a movie. And the black and white illustrations are nice. I want to enlarge them and frame them on my wall

Next up is his other book, The Tesseract, which is actually set in the Philippines. So let's see if he captures the essence of our country from a foreigner's eyes

One of the hardest survey questions ive ever had to answer was: If you had to lose one of your senses, what would you choose to lose?



i wouldnt want to lose my eyesight because i would never see how sweetly my godaughter bianca smiles, or how wonderful the moon looks with clouds obscuring it slightly, or how the young people in fullcup look like with their hands raised in worship, or how my future mate would look like all tousled up in the morning

i wouldnt want to lose my sense of taste because i would never know the taste of Kimono Ken's Yaki Soba, or my mom's sinigang, or McDonald's double cheeseburger, or Ate Mayette's polvoron

i wouldnt want to lose my sense of smell because how else would i know that the food im cooking is burning or what newly fresh grass smells like or get high when i go to gasoline stations or cringe at the smell of cigarette smoke on my shirt

i wouldnt want to lose my sense of touch because i would never be able to run my hands through his hair or touch the leaves of a new book for the first time or hold a baby's cheeks between my two hands or feel the  sand coarse through my fingers

i wouldnt want to lose my hearing because i would never be able to hear a single note ever again or my brother's laughter or the tinkling of bamboo chimes or even the sound of jeepneys which i usually find so annoying

so i go to bed every night praying that God wouldnt take any of those things away from me. and God would always ask me, "Would You still praise me if I did take away one, two, or all of them?"

I would love to say that my answer would be a whole-hearted "Yes!"

But if im true to myself, I would have to admit that there's still a part of me that would probably think twice about it. Or curse. Or turn away from Him

And I would never be satisfied until I can truly and honestly and wholeheartedly say that I would praise You even if my brain is the only part of my body that is working properly

a lot of my most meaningful and/or earth-shattering conversations with my Father have been on public vehicles, in full view of other passengers. my theory is that because there, I have no choice but to listen because I am stuck and have nowhere to go

there was that time after my final conversation with a certain someone . i didnt cry in front of him for pride's sake. but the moment i stepped onto the jeepney, i felt my tears and heart overflow. not caring about whether the other passengers would think im crazy, i cried my heart out to God and kept asking over and over why it had to happen that way. i didnt hear any answers, but i felt a soothing hand on my back and comfort beyond words. and even though my heart was broken and bleeding, i was being reassured that pretty soon, the pieces would mend and i would be singing and smiling again. and true enough, resiliency rears its beautiful head

then there was that time when i celebrated my birthday on a bus to Laguna. I just finished an event for a client at 1130PM on the eve of my birthday. and of course by the time the clock struck 12, i was still on that bus, waxing sentimental on the 24 (or was it 23?) years of my life. and then He whispers to me "I think you've forgotten me". It dawned on me that I had been so busy trying to get somwhere that I've lost passion for my first love, the love that would never forsake nor condemn. On a dingy bus on the south luzon expressway, I recommited my life to Him

then there was that time on an fx ride to intramuros when i was dealing with unforgiveness. He made me realize that He died not just for me but even for the people who break other people's hearts. And after going down that fx, I immediately called someone up and said three simple words to him, "I forgive you". And that moment was a turning point in my battle

it was also on a bus from laguna to intramuros, when i was at a point when i was messing up left and right when i received the reassurance that no matter how many times i keep bungling work and relationships and my internal struggles, grace is always there for the taking

my point is, you dont have to be in church or at a youth camp or in the middle of worship to have life changing and momentous encounters with God. you can be in a coffeshop, in the bathroom, in the middle of doing something disastrous, on a tricycle and He can still reach you, if you just shut out the white noise and listen intently to that still, small voice

so maybe im gonna take that unplanned bus ride to somwhere ive never been. and if you happen to sit beside me, dont laugh when i suddenly burst into tears. it's just me and my God talking

====================================================

if one day, the two of you do end up together...know that i was one of your earliest matchmakers...